Free Web NovelChapter 42: Chapter 42: The Dreamweaver’s Script
Chapter 42: The Dreamweaver’s Script
A gentle knock echoed through the room.
"Young Master, your lunch is ready."
Lyra’s soft voice came from outside the door.
"Come in."
The door opened quietly, and Lyra entered while pushing a small serving cart. Steam rose from the freshly prepared dishes, filling the room with a pleasant aroma.
She carefully arranged each plate on the table before stepping back respectfully.
"Lunch is served, Young Master."
Andras nodded before taking his seat.
The meal passed in comfortable silence.
Unlike most nobles, he had no interest in lengthy conversations while eating. He finished every dish at an unhurried pace, neither too quickly nor too slowly.
Once he had finished, Lyra silently collected the empty plates.
"Will you require anything else, Young Master?"
"No."
She bowed politely before leaving the room, gently closing the door behind her.
Silence returned.
Andras leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger lightly against the armrest.
Now that I’ve reached the Mid Stage of the Third Circle...
It’s time to fulfill the promise I made to Mother.
He rose from his chair and walked toward the writing desk beside the window.
The afternoon sunlight poured across the polished wooden surface.
A thick notebook rested there alongside a bottle of black ink, several sheets of parchment, and a finely crafted quill.
Andras picked up the quill.
For a brief moment, he remained still.
He dipped the quill into the ink.
Then wrote the title across the first page.
The Dreamweaver’s Labyrinth
His handwriting was elegant and precise, reflecting years of noble education inherited from the original Andras.
Without another pause, he began writing.
Unlike an ordinary novelist, he wasn’t merely recording a story.
He was creating a complete script.
Every scene was meticulously described.
Every conversation carried purpose.
Every character received detailed instructions.
Beside each line of dialogue, he noted the exact emotion the actor should convey.
"Speak with hesitation."
"Pause before answering."
"Maintain eye contact for three heartbeats."
"Allow the voice to tremble slightly."
He described facial expressions...
Body language...
Lighting created through magical crystals...
Background music...
Even the duration of silent moments between conversations.
Nothing escaped his attention.
Although the world possessed moving picture plays, the industry remained primitive compared to the cinema of Earth.
Most productions relied almost entirely on dialogue, paying little attention to atmosphere or visual storytelling.
Andras intended to change that.
If this production succeeded...
It would become something the people of this world had never witnessed before.
Hours slipped away unnoticed.
The quill continued dancing across the pages.
Occasionally, he stopped to reorganize a scene or rewrite an exchange until it matched the image inside his mind.
Perfection demanded patience.
By the time he placed the quill down...
The notebook had become remarkably thick.
Every page was filled with neat handwriting.
A complete screenplay.
From the opening scene to the final spinning crystal.
Nothing had been omitted.
Andras exhaled quietly.
"That should be enough."
Another knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Young Master."
Lyra entered once again, this time carrying dinner.
As always, she served the meal without disturbing him.
After finishing dinner, Andras thanked her with a slight nod.
Lyra quietly gathered the dishes and left.
Only a short while later...
Another knock sounded.
"Come in."
Lyra stepped inside once more.
This time, she carried a large wooden case wrapped in expensive cloth.
She carefully placed it upon the table.
"The garments you ordered yesterday have arrived, Young Master."
Andras raised an eyebrow.
"So soon?"
He had expected at least another day before they were finished.
The fact that they had already arrived suggested that the tailor had likely assigned multiple craftsmen to work throughout the night.
Either the shop owner valued the Darkmoor family’s business greatly...
Or they feared disappointing the Duchess.
Perhaps both.
After Lyra left, Andras opened the wooden case.
Inside lay a magnificent black noble outfit.
Silver embroidery traced elegant patterns across the sleeves and collar.
The inner fabric was woven from high-grade spirit silk, while the outer cloak carried the Darkmoor crest stitched in dark silver thread.
It was dignified without appearing overly extravagant.
Exactly the image he had envisioned.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"The workmanship is impressive."
He carefully folded the clothing once more and stored it inside the wardrobe.
His attention then shifted toward the thick manuscript resting on the desk.
Without hesitation, he picked it up.
It was time to deliver it.
Leaving his room, Andras walked through the quiet corridors until he arrived outside Evelyne’s chambers.
Knock.
A few moments later...
The door opened.
Evelyne stood before him, dressed in an elegant midnight-blue gown. Her golden hair flowed over her shoulders, and a gentle smile naturally appeared the moment she saw him.
"Andras."
"I hope I’m not disturbing you, Mother."
"You never are."
She stepped aside.
"Come in."
Andras entered the room.
The atmosphere inside was warm and peaceful.
A fireplace crackled softly, filling the chamber with gentle warmth.
They sat opposite one another near a small tea table.
Without unnecessary pleasantries, Andras placed the manuscript before her.
"I’ve finished writing the screenplay."
"I’d like you to read it."
"If you notice anything that should be changed, tell me."
"I’ll revise it."
Evelyne looked at the unusually thick manuscript before lifting it with both hands.
"You truly wrote all of this... in a single day?"
"I did."
A trace of curiosity appeared in her sapphire eyes.
She opened the first page.
The room gradually became silent.
Only the sound of turning pages echoed softly.
Andras remained perfectly calm.
His gaze rested upon Evelyne rather than the manuscript itself.
He observed every subtle change in her expression.
At first...
Simple curiosity.
Then...
Interest.
Soon afterward...
Surprise.
As the story progressed, her expression became increasingly absorbed.
She laughed softly during several conversations.
Her brows furrowed during moments of tension.
By the time she reached the ending...
She remained completely silent.
Several long moments passed before she finally closed the manuscript.
She looked up at Andras.
There was unmistakable astonishment in her eyes.
"...It’s extraordinary."
"You’ve written it even better than when you first told me the story."
Her fingers gently rested upon the manuscript.
"This isn’t merely a script."
"It’s practically an instruction manual."
She smiled helplessly.
"You’ve described every scene..."
"Every line..."
"Every expression..."
She looked at him with disbelief.
"You didn’t need to write so much."
"A simple outline of the story would have been enough."
Andras shook his head.
"No."
"If you’re going to produce this moving picture play, then I should provide everything necessary to make it exceptional."
He spoke calmly, his voice carrying quiet conviction.
"I don’t want its quality to suffer simply because I overlooked small details."
"If the production fails due to my carelessness..."
"I would consider that my mistake."
His expression remained composed.
"I want people to praise the moving picture play."
"But more importantly..."
"I want them to praise the person who brought it into existence."
"You."
For a brief moment...
Evelyne simply stared at him.
A warmth she rarely allowed herself to show surfaced in her eyes.
She reached forward and gently ruffled his white hair.
"You really are..."
"...the best son a mother could ask for."
For once, Andras did not avoid the gesture.
He simply allowed it.
The two of them spent the next hour discussing the screenplay.
They talked about casting suitable actors.
The construction of dream landscapes.
The magical devices required to recreate the Astral Sea.
Even the design of the crystal spinner that would conclude the story.
By the end of their discussion, Evelyne had already begun planning the production in her mind.
She could almost picture the finished masterpiece.
Eventually, Andras rose to his feet.
"I’ll leave the rest to you, Mother."
She smiled.
"And I’ll make sure the world remembers your story."
He gave a slight nod before leaving her chambers.
The corridors were quiet beneath the glow of enchanted lamps.
Returning to his room, Andras placed his thoughts aside.
Without another word, he lay upon his bed.
Within moments...
Sleep claimed him, carrying the villain into another quiet night.
